What the hell?!
The Masters observing the battlefield were stunned. At that moment, a single thought echoed in their minds:
What? There's no need to hide real names in this Holy Grail War?!
Why was a Heroic Spirit announcing his name immediately upon appearing? Why did it feel like this was a war of real names? Were all Heroic Spirits so absurdly confident?
From the shadows, Kayneth raised his eyebrows. Something about this situation was clearly different from the intel he had received. The Holy Grail War was supposed to be a secret affair. But why did it seem like Heroic Spirits were popping up left and right? How was this supposed to stay hidden?
It was understood that Heroic Spirits should conceal their identities—it was the foundation of tactical advantage, as their weaknesses were tied to their names.
Yet none of these Heroic Spirits seemed to care. Were they all just that honest? Or… that single-minded?
"Put away your weapons, and do not act recklessly in the presence of the king!"
The old man with the red beard—the King of Conquerors—stood proudly, arms outstretched, confidence and heroism blazing across his face.
"Dear warriors, I am the King of Conquerors. I propose a temporary halt to this battle—and while we're at it, would any of you be willing to join my army?"
The three Heroic Spirits present immediately gave him a look—equal parts disbelief and pity. Given how abruptly he interrupted their clash, it was clear he'd been observing for some time. And if he had, then surely he'd heard enough to realize they already knew each other.
Even if they hadn't spoken yet, they hailed from the same era. Their armor, their speech—it wasn't exactly subtle.
Merlin was the first to wave his hand dismissively. "What a joke! I am King Arthur! How could I possibly submit to another king?"
Balin, eyeing the handsome, white-haired man before him, raised a brow. He had seen King Arthur before—and if he recalled correctly, King Arthur had golden hair. But he kept that thought to himself.
It was a miracle to encounter so many fellow heroes from his own time in this Holy Grail War. And in the absence of any old grudges, this kind of familiarity bred natural camaraderie. They could even coordinate, eliminate the heroes of other eras together, and settle superiority amongst themselves later.
Balin lowered his weapon for now, then shrugged. "Sorry, but I won't be joining anyone. I'm just a lazy man. A wandering knight, used to drifting from place to place. Besides, I'm known as a troublemaker. If I joined your army, I'd bring misfortune, not glory."
He glanced at his own Luck stat: E++.
Not the worst, but far from good.
And truthfully, his final years had been filled with highs and lows—great achievements marred by chaos. In the end, he'd even died fighting his own brother.
No wonder he didn't think much of himself.
"So what about you, little brother?"
The King of Conquerors turned his attention to Aslan, who raised his golden sword high.
"I was once chosen by the Sword of the Chosen King. But I gave up the throne. I gave up even the throne in pursuit of freedom. So, King of Conquerors—do you really think I'd join anyone else?"
He smirked, his golden eyes sparkling with amusement.
"If I did join, I might just lead a rebellion. After all, you might not be able to suppress me—or the dragon that follows me."
Regret flickered in the Conqueror King's eyes, but he shook his head with a soft sigh. "It seems the negotiations have failed. I didn't think I was that unattractive…"
Seated on the chariot behind him, covered in the Conqueror's cloak, Waver Velvet twitched.
Was it just him, or did his Servant have some serious issues?
"But hey—everything's worth a try! Hoohahaha!"
The King of Conquerors threw his arms wide, voice booming from the battlefield to the entire port.
"I know I'm not the only one drawn here by the sound of clashing swords! If you're out there—don't skulk in the shadows like rats! Show yourselves! Cowards hiding in the dark deserve no respect!"
It was a blatant provocation. A bold challenge.
That said, Artoria had no intention of stepping forward.
This was nothing more than a calculated move to flush everyone out. After all, the King of Conquerors had already revealed himself. Drawing out other competitors would only give him more information and potential leverage.
He might act like a fool, but no one becomes a king by being truly foolish.
Each participant had different priorities. And for her team, revealing themselves now would be strategically disastrous. With two Heroic Spirits under their control, they'd instantly become a high-priority target.
This was no mere game. This was war.
And anyone who underestimated this Holy Grail War… would die.
"These two bastards claiming to be kings are giving me a headache. Listen up—there can be only one king in this world!"
Golden light flared.
A regal figure materialized atop a lamppost—golden hair like a flame, a handsome face marred by arrogance, and cold, blood-red eyes that seemed to gleam with contempt.
He radiated danger.
And his words—blunt and scathing—branded everyone as bastards.
It was clear this golden Heroic Spirit had no intention of playing nice.
From the shadows, Kariya, his half-dead face twisted with rage, watched with loathing.
After studying his Servant's ability, he'd taken the time to prepare a full arsenal of cosplay-style weapon props—each of which, through his Servant's power, could be elevated to the level of Noble Phantasms.
He grinned.
"Go! Berserker! Beat up that golden bastard for me!!"
With a roar, a black Berserker burst from the darkness, carrying a massive box on his back.
Reaching in, he yanked out an enormous axe prop. Black-red lines of magical energy crackled across its surface. In a flash, the cheap imitation transformed—upgraded by madness into a true Noble Phantasm.
"Get down from there, Tokiomi's Servant!"
"If you want someone to blame, blame Tokiomi!"
-End Chapter-
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